Not This Time
by bigred08
Summary: RayNeela...ish Neela has a family crisis, and Ray refuses to let her push him away again.
1. Truths Surface

**Not This Time**

**Disclaimer**: I don't know why anyone would think these characters are mine…they're not...  
**Rating**: T (language, and later perhaps some sexual references)  
**A/N**: Set a few months after the start of season 13. Any info up to then is fair game, though I don't think this will be particularly spoilerish…and this was originally written very soon after the start of the season, so if any of this happened, I'm psychic and I didn't even know it! I'm not sure if Ray and Neela will ultimately have a romantic relationship or if they'll just stay bestest good friends :)**  
Summary: **(RayNeela-ish) Neela has a family crisis and Ray refuses to let her push him away again.**  
**

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**Chapter One: Truths Surface**

After many painful weeks of humiliation and patient waiting on her part, Neela was finally allowed to help with surgeries on a regular basis now. She was performing a complex procedure when her pager went off. She felt it vibrate against her hip. Neela made no indication of recognition of the page. Her hands continued with their steady work. It vibrated for about two seconds. Given the nature of the surgery, the page would have to wait until later. She had exactly, she looked up at the clock, 23 minutes left in which to finish. This was Abby's patient and she had come in to check on the progress. Within minutes, her pager went off again. And then again. Finally, Neela had enough.

"Abby," she asked her friend, without looking up from what she was doing, "can you take my beeper please?"

"Sure." As Abby unclipped if from Neela's waistline, it went off for the fifth time.

"Who is it?"

"It's a, uh, 410 number, 410-955—this is Johns Hopkins. Who do you know at Johns Hopkins?" It buzzed again in Abby's hand.

"No one."

"Well, someone knows you and really wants to talk."

"There is a reason she's not answering the page. Or do you not understand that concept down in the ER?" Dr. Crenshaw sneered.

"I realize that, thank you," Abby glared at him as she spoke. He was concentrating on the patient as well, so he didn't see her.

"Abby, please call whoever that is on my behalf."

"Sure."

"Let me know who it is when you find out."

"Of course."

"I will be available in," she glanced at the clock again, "eighteen and a half minutes." Abby looked up at the time, 11:51 AM.

"Is this now a social surgery?"

"No, Dr. Crenshaw, Abby was just doing me a _favor_. She was _being nice_." Abby smiled at her friend even though they weren't looking at each other, and wouldn't be able to see behind the surgical masks anyway. Neela had finally figured out a way to play Dr. Crenshaw's game. For every sneering comment he made, she could jab him right back. Abby stepped out of the OR. She went downstairs to the doctors' lounge near the ER. Picking up the phone she dialed the number that had been paged to Neela's beeper 17 times.

"Johns Hopkins Hospital, how can I help you?" a perky woman answered on the second ring.

"Yes, this is Dr. Abby Lockhart, calling on behalf of Dr. Neela Rasgotra. She was paged from this number several times."

"Hold on one moment, Doctor." Abby heard the hold muzak for about three seconds before another woman picked up.

"Neela," the woman started.

"No, this is Dr. Abby Lockhart," replied Abby, clearly very confused, as Ray stepped into the lounge.

"Who?"

"I am calling on behalf of Dr. Neela Rasgotra." Ray gave Abby a puzzled look.

"Yes, Neela, I need to speak to her." Abby recognized Mrs. Rasgotra's angry voice immediately, once she had spoken more than two words.

"Mrs. Rasgotra," Abby began, "Neela is in the middle of surgery right now—" she was cut off.

"This is important!"

"Mrs. Rasgotra, I'm sorry, but she can't talk right now. She asked me to call for her. Can I deliver a message?" Ray was alarmed by the call, even knowing almost nothing about it. The Rasgotras rarely called their daughter, and never at work. After Abby had been given a message, she hung up the phone, slowly.

"Abby?" Ray asked. "What was that about?"

"What time is it?" Abby asked, her voice quiet, constrained by worry. Ray looked at his watch.

"11:57. Why?"

"Twelve minutes."

"What?"

"Neela has twelve minutes left in her surgery."

"What's going on Abby?"

"That was Neela's mom."

"Yeah."

"At Johns Hopkins."

"Why is she there?"

"I need to talk to Neela," Abby said to herself as she started out of the lounge.

"No, Abby, what are you talking about? Why was her mom calling?"

"It's her dad. He's at Johns Hopkins," Abby started, pausing to figure out what to say.

"You can't tell her in the middle of surgery, Abby. Especially if you can't even get it out here, and it's not even your parents." Abby nodded. After pacing for a few seconds, she sat down. "Coffee?"

"Sure." Ray handed her a mug.

"Are _you_ ok?"

"Yeah, I just don't know how to tell Neela this."

"Can you tell me?"

"I probably shouldn't. But I haven't the faintest idea how to tell Neela this, so maybe you can help, but you can't say anything to her, ok?"

"Why not?"

"Well, not until I do. She asked me to tell her as soon as I knew who it was."

"Fair enough. I do want to talk to her though. She won't want to talk to me, I'm sure, but there are a few things I need to say to her."

"Ok. Mr. Rasgotra had a heart attack last week. They treated him in London, but there was some problem. It was unclear from what she was saying. But the long and short of it, is that he is now at Hopkins."

"They flew him from _London_ to _Hopkins_?"

"Yes. Johns Hopkins is one of the top hospitals in heart surgery," she said, pointing out the well known fact.

"What the hell happened?"

"I don't know, Ray!" she answered unnecessarily loudly.

"Abby, calm down. I was asking rhetorically."

"Sorry." He shrugged.

"I think you can say exactly that when you tell her. Maybe just...make sure she's sitting. I should probably get back to work. Let me know when I can talk to her."

"Ok." Abby knew Neela and Ray were cordial, but hadn't really talked about anything of much substance in weeks, or maybe even months. But, Ray was her friend as well, so she agreed to tell him.

"Thanks."

-o-

"Abby!" Neela said to her friend loudly upon entering the lounge.

"Neela!" she answered, surprised.

"Why didn't you come back? You have my pager; I need that!"

"Neela, sit." Neela tentatively sat next to her friend. "How was the surgery?"

"I finished early, obviously, it all went smoothly. Who was paging me?"

"The call was coming from Johns Hopkins Hospital."

"I know that, you pointed it out in the OR."

"It was your mother."

"What?"

"Your mother."

"No I heard you. What about?"

"Your father." Abby swallowed, preparing herself to explain the details.

"What are you talking about?" fear crept into Neela's voice.

"Your father had a heart attack. They treated him in London, but there was a complication."

"What was the complication?"

"I don't know. Your mother wasn't very clear about it. And she didn't really want to be talking to me. She wanted to talk to you."

"Ok. What did she tell you?"

"So there was some complication and they flew him here to Hopkins, and he's currently in surgery, or soon to be."

"What?!" Abby bit her lip, not quite sure what to say. "My mum was calling to say he's in surgery?" Abby nodded. "She didn't call when it first happened? Or when they arrived in the States? She calls when he is going into surgery?!" Abby guessed that her friend wasn't really expecting answers, so she remained quiet. Neela grabbed her beeper from Abby's hand, and walked over to the phone. Once she was transferred to her mother a heated conversation started in Punjabi. It ended abruptly when Neela slammed down the phone.

"Neela?"

"What?" she snapped back.

"Is everything ok?"

"Ok?! No, everything is not ok!" Neela fell back into the wall, and slid down until she was sitting on the floor.

"You should go home."

"No," Neela replied quickly standing back up. "No, I need to get back to work." She headed toward the door.

"Neela!" Abby rushed to get between her friend and the door. "You are not in a state to go back to work. You need to go home and take care of yourself. Now."

"You sound like Ray."

"Yeah, well, sometimes he's right." Neela glared at Abby. "Speaking of whom, he wanted to talk to you."

"I can't talk to him right now."

"Do you want a ride home?"

"No, I'm not going home."

"You're either going home or talking to Ray."

"No, Abby, I am _not_ going home, I am _not_ talking to Ray, I _am_ going back to work."

"This isn't a question Neela." Abby received another glare. "Sit." Neela scoffed, but did sit. "Just gather yourself for a minute, ok?"

"It would help if you stopped talking," Neela spat. Abby nodded and left. Neela leaned her elbows on her knees and let her head drop into her hands. _When did things get so complicated?_ she wondered.

--o--

"Neela?" A man's voice snapped Neela back to reality. She lifted her head, though it was not to identify the speaker. She recognized his voice.

"What do you want Ray?" she asked angrily.

"Are you ok?"

"I'm fine."

"I was asking as a formality. Abby told me what happened." Neela clenched her jaw.

"She had no business doing that."

"Well, she did. Do you want a ride home?"

"No, I am going back to work." Neela stood up.

"You should go home."

"What makes you think you know what I should do?"

"Abby agrees with me."

"Do you follow everything Abby agrees to?"

"No, but I do in this case."

"I need you to leave Ray."

"Will you talk to me later?"

"Sometime," she answered vaguely, taking a few steps to the door. It was the answer he had been getting for months now. 'Sometime' never came.

"Neela, listen to me," Ray said with quiet forcefulness, grabbing her arm turning her toward him, just as she had put her other hand on the door knob.

"No, _you _listen to _me_." She shook his hand off her arm, and kept her other hand on the door knob. "You need to leave. I can't talk to you right now."

"Damn it Neela," his volume started to increase. "When Michael died, you told me to stay away, and I did. I tried my best to stay away. You made it pretty easy by doing everything in your power to push me away."

"I did not—" he cut her off.

"Yes you did. Don't even try to deny it. Everyone agrees with me." This was the argument he'd been wanting to have with her for weeks. He was tired of waiting, of being the back up. He continued, "then, when Gates decided you weren't worth his time, I still tried to be your friend. He was never good enough for you, but it seemed to be what you wanted, so I let it be. You trusted him and he took advantage of you. Then, I tried to be there when he wasn't. And again, you pushed me away. And I did stay away. That's what you wanted, so that's what I did. But you know what? Not this time. Neela you've been falling since the day Michael left after your wedding. You loved him, he left you and then he died. After that you trusted Gates, and he left too. What's stayed the same through all this Neela? What has remained constant? What is the _one_ thing that hasn't changed? Me. I've been here, but you seem to want nothing to do with me. And yet, it keeps coming back to us."

"No, you just came in here."

"If you truly felt how you've been acting, and saying you've felt, you would have left by now." She suddenly became very aware of the fact that her hand was still on the door knob. It was true—she could have left at any point. She slowly dropped her hand. "You would have walked out on me. Again. But you haven't. I'm not saying you should marry me, like you did Michael, or date me like Gates. I'm just trying to make you see that I care about you. I am your friend. Because face it Neela, you need me."

"No, I don't. You just won't leave."

"Is that how you see it?" He nodded slowly. "Ok, alright. Well, then I ask you, who's going to catch you Neela? You're going to keep falling, because at this point you can't stop yourself. You can't do it on your own, no matter how much you try. Who's going to catch you?"

"I am not falling."

"Really?" he asked, indignant.

"No!" she answered forcefully.

"What are you going to do when you go home?"

"I don't know. Why does that matter?"

"Answer the question."

"I don't know! Go to sleep, or go out to the bar."

"Uh huh. What did you do last weekend?"

"I worked on Friday. Then I was off Saturday and Sunday."

"What did you do Friday and Saturday nights?"

"I went out with some friends."

"And what did you do the weekend before, when you were off?"

"I was at home."

"And at the bars."

"What's your point?"

"You have had more to drink in the last few months than you did for the year and a half you lived with me!"

"So I go out more, what's wrong with that?"

"Nothing. It's not that you go out. It's that you drink."

"And you are one to talk?"

"I am now."

"What is that supposed to mean?"

"Yes, I used to drink too much, but I recognized that, and I cut down, Neela."

"You stopped drinking so much because your band left."

"That too. But it wasn't just that."

"What does this have to do with anything, Ray?"

"I'm trying to make you understand what you are doing to yourself, and what you are throwing away."

"I'm not doing anything to myself. I am not throwing anything away."

"Yes you are."

"Fuck you, I am not. My work has not suffered from any change in my habits, on the contrary I have moved rapidly through my surgery elective."

"Are you happy?"

"Not right now! My fucking father is in the hospital and my family waits until he is in surgery to tell me, and now you are standing here telling me how horrible everything is. Yes, everything is just a bucket of sunshine!"

"What would make you happy?"

"If you would shut the hell up, and leave me alone." She saw his jaw tighten.

"Go home. Go home and I'll leave you alone." He pointed to the door.

"Fine." He nodded. She opened the door more forcefully than necessary.

"Good night," he said, his voice having returned to guarded compassion that he had used around her for months.

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A/N: So, I have several more chapters of this written, but I don't know if I will finish the story, or if it is better as a one-shot. Should I continue? Let me know what you liked, what you didn't like, what you couldn't care less about...  
It's finals time...review and make my day! 


	2. Pizza And Speed Dials

**Disclaimer and Rating**: see chapter 1.  
**A/N**: (1) Thanks for all the nice reviews. It's been a ridiculously long wait, and I hope this will be worth it. (2) I can't really figure out how to transition the Roomies back to a real friendship, given their attitudes toward one another in the first chapter. Even in this chapter, they don't really follow the same characterization they have in chapter 1, any _constructive _criticism on that would be appreciated. (3) I have no idea how medical insurance works in England. I highly doubt my proposition in this chapter is even remotely feasible, but it makes my story work. And I know we know from "I Don't" that Neela is 'Neela' in Ray's phone, not 'Roomie,' but again, for the sake of my story…that's how it is. I wrote the original draft of this before we knew that anyway. I made up the parts of Neela's family that they don't tell us about in the show. (4) And lastly, Mario's Little Pizzeria is not a real place, to my knowledge.

Now I'll shut up and get on with the story!

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**Chapter Two: Pizza and Speed Dials**

That evening, after talking with her mother, Neela sat on the couch running through her conversation with Ray over and over in her head. Each time she went over it again, she realized some other truth Ray had pointed out that she vehemently tried to deny. She got up to get some water, or something to drink—her mouth was parched. She looked in her fridge, confirming yet another correct observation from Ray. The contents of her fridge were predominantly ingredients for mixed drinks—lime juice, cranberry juice, tonic soda, limes, orange juice, diet coke—and beer. The freezer held little more than ice and vodka. _No, Ray's not right. I just need to go grocery shopping. That's all._ The realization was like a punch in the gut. She was trying to justify something unjustifiable. She was in denial. This was unhealthy and she knew it. Pushing that thought aside, she decided that she needed some sort of food, and decided on pizza. What would be better on a Friday night than some pizza?

She picked up her cell phone and pressed the number her thumb naturally fell on—four. _Medium…why don't they make small?…cheese and anchovy, or should I branch out, and get something—_ the person on the other end picked up while she contemplated what she should order.

"Hello?"

"I'd like to place an order."

"What?"

"Isn't this Mario's Little Pizzeria?"

"No, Neela, this is Ray." _Shit._ She hung up the phone. When she lived with Ray, speed dial four was Mario's Little Pizzeria. When she moved out, she bumped Mario's to number five and Ray took the number four position. She hadn't lived with Ray in almost a year.

-o-

Ray looked at his phone in his hand. Soon after she moved in, they had several ridiculous conversations about speed dial locations, and which was a 'place of honor' so to speak. He smiled at the absurdity of the topic. But, it made him recall that on Neela's phone, Mario's used to be four. If she was trying to call Mario's and got him, it meant he was now number four. It was things like that that confirmed he meant something to her. It was the tiniest things, but they added up. He remembered entering his number into her phone a few years ago. He was entry number 97. Instead of his name he had written 'AAA Your Favorite Person,' with the three A's in front of it so that it was sure to be the top entry in the phone book. She had punched him and said he could have speed dial eight if he wrote his name correctly. After all, why should her roommate get a place of honor? Why would she have to call her roommate? He agreed to change the entry to his name, but put himself at the more desirable five instead of eight. She didn't change it until she moved out. For him though, Neela had always been speed dial number four.

He was pulled out of his reminiscing when his phone started vibrating in his hand. He looked down at the caller ID. Roomie. She'd always be speed dial four and she'd always be his Roomie.

"Hi."

"Sorry about before." He laughed. "I forgot I changed my speed dials."

"I figured."

"I thought it would only be polite to ask if you wanted some pizza since I was going to try to order it from you."

"Uh, sure, if you're offering."

"It's the nice thing to do. And I need something to get my mind off of my dad, or I am going to go bonkers." _Plus, as much as I deny it, I do miss you_, she added mentally.

"Want me to pick it up on my way over?" She smiled.

"Yeah, sure. I'll call it in now."

"Make sure you dial five this time," he joked.

"I will." She hung up. After placing the order, she wondered if inviting him over was a mistake. She decided she'd tell him a few details about her dad, then change the subject. They wouldn't get into anything too serious, she promised herself.

-o-

Ray arrived a short while later. Neela indicated she was sitting on the couch when he came, so he brought the pizza over to the coffee table.

"Do you want a beer?" she asked, going to the fridge. "And don't you dare make some comment about alcohol," she added sternly, with no hint of humor.

"Sure," he answered, "and I wasn't going to."

"My parents don't want me to go down to Maryland," she said plopping down on the couch next to Ray, handing him his beer.

"Why not?"

"They say there is nothing I can do, 'so why don't I just stay in Chicago and work?'" she asked imitating her mother's voice. She then continued, "they'll come here as soon as they discharge him."

"Well, they're kind of right." He took a drink. "Though I'm sure that's not what you wanted to hear."

"That is correct."

"Did you find out what happened?"

"Yeah."

"Care to elaborate?"

"Last week, _last week_, my dad had a heart attack. Why they didn't tell me then is beyond me. He was discharged after a few days, but when he went back for a check up mum said there was something wrong in one of the tests, she didn't know which one. I'm guessing the echo, but that's just a guess."

"It's a good guess."

"They wanted him to get surgery. Mum knows the reputation of Hopkins because we discussed it ad nauseam when I was looking at medical schools and residencies and such. She asked if my father could have the procedure done there. They said insurance would cover the procedure, not the travel, nor any complications arising from the flight. But _if_ she was willing to pay to get over here and understood the risk of flying, it was her call. It baffles me that she still wanted to come here. So here they are. It apparently just occurred to mum that she should give me a call to say they were going to be visiting in a few days." In a voice mocking her mother, she added, "and oh-by-the-way your father just had a heart attack and surgery so we can't fly home for at least a week. " She scoffed. "They can fly to Chicago, but apparently not England," she finished sourly.

"Is he ok now?"

"Yeah. He was still under anesthetic, but apparently everything in the OR went smoothly."

"Is your whole family coming?"

"Yes. And they refuse to stay at a hotel, since I have a place here in which they can stay for free. I hope my brothers and sister know they will be sleeping on the floor."

"I've still got an extra room at my place. Your family is welcome to use it."

"I can't impose them upon you."

"You're not. I'm offering. Besides, I'm offering a place for them to sleep, I said nothing of the kind of host I'll be. My schedule is pretty damn full for the next few weeks, so I really won't be home much. But the offer is out there. I have an extra bed and a couch, which I know is not a terrible place to crash, it's actually quite comfy."

"I know." She nodded, smiling at the memory. "I fell asleep my fair share of times on that couch." He chuckled. "I appreciate the gesture. I'll let them know."

"Good. Let me know when you do, so I know how much I have to clean up."

"You could clean up anyway," she laughed, "even if you don't have guests, having a clean apartment is not a bad thing."

"And you're one to talk?" he jabbed playfully, looking around Abby's apartment.

"I bet your place is worse! And I know I have to clean up. I was going to after dinner."

"It depends how you define 'worse.' I have more clothes lying around, but you've got take out containers and stuff."

"Hey now, some of this stuff is Abby and Luka's. They still come here sometimes. And that," she motioned to one corner of the room, "is Joe's mess."

"Oh, and are you going to make him clean that up?" Ray laughed.

"No! I'm just saying, yes this place is a mess, but it's not all _my _mess."

"I know, I'm just giving you a hard time," he explained gently.

"I know," she answered softly.

"So how often _do_ Abby and Luka come around here? It looks like you're pretty moved in," he said, changing the subject.

"Pretty much. I've claimed the bed and most of the closet. They're here about once every two weeks." Ray got up to put the rest of the unfinished pizza in the fridge.

"I can do that," Neela said, starting to stand.

"Nah, I got it. I have to get up anyway." She gave him a curious look. "Bathroom," he explained. She nodded in understanding.

Ray put the pizza in the fridge, but before leaving the kitchen, he looked at the things covering the front of the refrigerator. There were several magnets from drug companies. A few were used to hang the work schedule. Her shifts were highlighted in bright yellow. Next to the schedule was a picture of him and Neela. It was from Abby's birthday party a few years ago. Ray had his arm draped casually around her waist. They were both holding drinks, and laughing. Along the top of the fridge were, what Ray guessed, pictures that belonged to Abby. They were above immediate eyesight of Neela, like she had pushed them out of the way to make room for her own decorations. There was a picture of Joe from when he was a few weeks old, just after he had finally been disconnected from the various monitors and machines that he had been attached to. Next to that was a picture of Abby, Luka and Joe, smiling, happy to be home together. Then there was a picture from Neela's wedding. It was her and Michael's first kiss as husband and wife. Even Ray had to admit it was a sweet picture. However, he couldn't help but notice that it was pushed to the top, and the picture of him and Neela was down at approximately eye level. _Like the speed dial thing_, he thought, _it's the little things that added up_.

Ray walked back over to couch when he was done in the bathroom. Neela had apparently gotten up to get a drink and was sitting there, curled up on the couch swishing a glass of water, daring it to spill out.

"Neela?" he said quietly, not wanting to startle her and actually make her spill the water.

"Hmm?" she answered without looking up.

"I think I'm going to head out." She looked up at him. "See you tomorrow?"

"No, I talked to Dubenko, and he's giving me a few days off."

"Crenshaw agreed to that?"

"No, Crenshaw's still being a little bitch. But Dubenko has some thread of humanity in him."

"Well, I'll see you when you come back?"

"I guess."

"Let me know if your family needs my apartment."

"Ok. Thanks." She stood up. "And thanks for picking up the pizza. How much do I owe you for it?"

"Don't worry about it. It's on me." She opened her mouth to argue, but Ray had anticipated that and cut her off before she could start. "It's like 12 bucks. And I ate about five dollars worth." She sat down.

"Fine," she answered, defeated.

"Are you, um, are you going to be ok? I mean, you said you wanted to take your mind off your dad, and then basically all we talked about was your dad."

"But I wasn't alone," she said quietly, "and that makes a difference." He smiled.

"Ok. I'm going to go now. Let me know if you need anything."

"I'm fine," she responded a little sharper than she intended.

"Are we doing this again?" he asked, agitated. "Really?" She shot him a glare. "C'mon Neela, we both know you're not 'fine.' You know what? Never mind. See you later." She started to get up. "You don't need to get up. I'll let myself out." Neela hesitated, but then sat back down. "Good night."

"Good night." The door closed and she sighed. She enjoyed his company, and there were moments where it was like they were friends again, but their conversations never went beyond small talk. A year ago he would have playfully harassed her about the speed dial thing. She would have asked him to stay longer. They would have broached the topic of the contents of her fridge when he returned from putting the left over pizza in there. He would probably convince her to do her grocery shopping right now, 'because,' he'd say, 'it's fun to go to 24-hour places at 11 PM.' They had done that once before. They couldn't justify ordering take-out for the 7th night in a row, so they decided to get groceries and make their own meal. They were the only customers in the store. It was fun. They ended up getting ready made sandwiches in the deli, so they might as well have ordered in.

-o-

He felt like he should have said something about her fridge. Aside from lettuce, some left over soup, a few cold cuts and condiments, the contents were all mixers, and beer. He guessed her freezer contained a few frozen dinners, some chicken, ice and vodka. It upset him. If there was one person who could really turn things around for her, he really believed it would be him. He knew all her idiosyncrasies. He could tell when to push her and when to step back. On the now rare occasions that she would actually make eye contact, when he asked how she was doing, she didn't have to say anything, he knew the answer just by looking in her eyes. He knew it meant something was off if she had tea instead of coffee. He knew it all, but she wouldn't let him put his knowledge to use. He sighed heavily, and turned away from her apartment building.

* * *

I have pieces written about her family's visit, but they're kind of vignettes, and don't connect. I don't like where I originally took this story, and I'm not sure how I'm going to finish it. I don't like posting chapters I am not pleased with, so it might be a while. Thanks for reading.  



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